


V-Day

by emungere



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-14
Updated: 2004-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schuldig attempts to find Crawford an appropriate Valentine's Day card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V-Day

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Becc for the last-minute beta.

"You're wasting your time, kid. She's nuts. They're all nuts, but she's worse."

Nagi glanced at him and then back at the card display. "You said you'd help. If you're not going to help, shut up."

Schuldig looked around at the card shop. It looked like it'd been hosed down with blood and Pepto-Bismol. Even the employees were pink and red. That one had a red heart on her pink sweater, right over her actual heart, just begging him to put a bullet in it.

"She won't even get it until next week."

"She knows we're away. She won't mind."

Of all the times Brad could pick to drag them to the States. Even Christmas would be better.

"This is dumbest holiday ever."

"You're just saying that because you know he won't get you anything."

Schuldig snorted. "Like I'd want anything. If you could hear what these people are thinking, you'd puke right here. Just be glad I have a strong stomach."

"You could get him something," Nagi said absently. He'd picked up a card with a bunny on it, which, given the intended audience, would probably be a winner.

"I don't think they have any 'fuck you for dragging me to this depraved pit of suicide-inducing sap' cards."

"You think she'd like this one?"

"Sure. You can buy her Fatal Attraction while you're at it."

"Why did I think you'd even pretend to help?"

"I really have no idea."

Nagi looked at him. "Don't you have someone else to bother? Where is Crawford anyway?"

"Out. Left before I got up. Bastard."

"Get him a card."

"Don't be stupider than you have to."

"You're bored, right?"

"When am I *not* fucking bored? I hate this country. We should have left weeks ago."

"Think of it as a challenge. Get him a card. An appropriate card."

"They don't sell cards like that in places like this."

"It'd probably be the first one he's gotten in his life."

That was a point, actually. Schuldig shut up and let Nagi get on with his deliberations.

He glanced at the rack in front of him. Brad's first valentine. Well, what the fuck. It wasn't like he had anything else to do.

He started picking through the cards. Appropriate was probably impossible. Something that would get a reaction from Brad other than that bland smirk of his would be good.

When Nagi came to get him, he was still sorting through more and more sickening messages of eternal love delivered by baby animals, or alternatively, messages of eternal lust delivered by women with breasts the size of watermelons.

"Find anything?"

Nagi waved a small paper bag at him. "Paid for. We can leave. Unless you wanted to keep looking."

Nagi wasn't *quite* smirking. Nothing Schuldig could legitimately smack him for.

"Let's get out of this place."

He let Nagi drive on the way home. He didn't trust his temper. The first bastard who cut him off would have a short and messy life.

He thought while Nagi wove through traffic. Something appropriate for Brad. Okay, no. That really was impossible. Something Brad would like. Something Brad would like that didn't involve money, those horrible pulp thrillers he read, or the death of someone from Eszett.

It wasn't until later that night, with Nagi and Farf tucked up in their beds, that he got it. It really was too simple. He should have thought of it right off.

***

Crawford kicked the car door closed and stabbed at the call button for the parking garage elevator. He spent the ride up hoping everyone was asleep. He wasn't in the mood to deal with their shit.

He stopped when he got out of the elevator. He could see the apartment door from there. There was a note stuck to it--stuck to it with a knife.

He glanced quickly up and down the hall, but saw no one. Nothing looked out of place. He would have foreseen it, if something had happened to them. It was probably from Schuldig to say he'd gone out for the night. The knife had probably just been convenient.

He relaxed when he was close enough to see the handwriting. There was no mistaking that lazy scrawl for anyone else.

Roses are red,  
Violets are blue,  
Come wake me up,  
and I'll blow you.

S.

Crawford raised a hand to cover the first smile he'd had on his face all day.

He found Schuldig sprawled on his bed, asleep on top of the covers, with a light blanket pulled over him. He had one arm wrapped around a pillow, held against his stomach. His hair fell across his face and moved slightly with each breath.

Crawford set the knife on the dresser and let the piece of paper flutter down and settle next to Schuldig's hand.

"What a lovely sentiment. I'm glad no one else took you up on the offer."

Schuldig shoved the paper aside and rubbed his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Crawford and pushed off his blanket. He was naked underneath it.

He yawned and stood. "Glad you like it."

"Any special occasion?"

Schuldig shrugged. He pushed his hair back and stretched. A few steps put him close enough to push Crawford up against the door. He dropped to his knees and cupped Crawford's cock through his pants. Eyes still narrow with sleep, he watched Crawford's face.

Crawford kept his expression blank. He never gave Schuldig a reaction unless--until--he couldn't help it. He watched slitted blue eyes grow sharper as Schuldig shook off the remnants of sleep. He heard and felt his zipper being pulled down. His pants and boxers were yanked down around his knees, and Schuldig stroked him roughly a few times before taking him in his mouth.

It was as good as it always was. Wet, hot, closing in around him, compressing his world to Schuldig's lips and tongue and teeth. Schuldig backed off for sloppy licks up the side of his cock, tiny nibbles all the way back down. When he reached the head he took it in his mouth and drew on it like one of his cigarettes.

He looked up now and then--met Crawford's eyes and smiled around his mouthful. Crawford bit the inside of his cheek, kept his face blank, and refused to give him anything.

Something like a war, like it always was between them. Schuldig pushed, and Crawford didn't give.

Minutes ticked past, minutes of listening to his own breath grow harsher, to the wet slurps as Schuldig brought him closer and closer. He tasted blood where his own teeth had scraped the side of his mouth. He wanted to finish, but it was always a struggle to give even that much.

Schuldig was giving him that look now. The one that said 'Hurry up and come, you fuck. My jaw hurts.' He could almost hear the snarling whine that went with the words.

Schuldig grabbed Crawford's hand and brought it down to rest on his head. Crawford's fingers twined in his hair automatically--and then he stopped. Schuldig didn't like to be touched when he did this. Crawford had only made that mistake once. He still had the scar to remind him.

Schuldig slid his mouth off his cock and dug his nails into Crawford's hip. Just to make sure he had his attention.

He did. Wet lips, mouth still hanging open, heavy-lidded eyes with those fucking ridiculous lashes. He definitely did.

Schuldig licked his lips.

"Do it," he said. "It's okay."

His voice was rough from taking Crawford down his throat, and the sound of it was almost enough to make Crawford come right there.

Schuldig sank his nails in deeper and pulled his hips forward, just in case he couldn't take a hint.

Crawford closed his eyes for a second. His hand tightened in Schuldig's hair and held him still as he thrust forward. Tight, perfect, searing heat of mouth and throat around his cock, tongue cradling and teasing him. Schuldig with his eyes tight shut, sucking and sucking and letting Crawford fuck his mouth.

He came fast and hard, forcing Schuldig to take him deeper than he should, unable to stop until he was spent and almost shivering as sweat dried on his skin.

He let go of Schuldig's hair and locked his knees so he wouldn't slide down the wall.

"What was that about?" His voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked, but pretending to be unaffected at this point would have been a bit much.

Schuldig wiped his mouth and looked up at him without expression. He shrugged. "Check a calendar."

He rose, pushed his hair out of his eyes again, and stalked into the bathroom.

February fourteenth. It took Crawford a few seconds to make the connection. He picked up the sheet of paper from the bed and read it over. About to let it fall again, he stopped. He folded it and tucked it in his pocket.

He followed Schuldig into the bathroom and found him brushing his teeth. When he was done, he turned him with a hand on his hips and pulled him into a kiss. Schuldig didn't resist.

The mint of the toothpaste almost overwhelmed his usual smoke-and-booze taste. There had been a time when Crawford had hated that taste enough to try and get him to stop smoking. He still didn't like it, but he wouldn't change it.

Schuldig pushed his jacket off, and the folded paper fell out of his pocket and fluttered to the floor.

"Keeping that?" Schuldig asked, still expressionless.

"Yes."

Maybe there was a hint of a smile at that. Schuldig took his hand and pulled him back into the bedroom.


End file.
